Following are some musings from reflecting on Mark 9:2-13...
"We heard this voice which came from heaven when we were with him on the holy mountain...we were eyewitnesses of his majesty.”
So says Peter.
At least that explains a few things.
Can you imagine being Peter or James or John — James and John who were called “Thunderheads” by Jesus and Peter whose name roughly translates to “Bloke with foot firmly wedged in mouth” — and not saying something about this to the rest of the guys when you rejoined them in the valley below?
“Tell the vision to no man.”
And they didn’t. Luke reports that “they kept silent and told no one in those days anything of what they had seen.” They may not have said anything, but I wonder how else this spilled out of them.
I can just hear the three disciples coming down the mountain behind Jesus and quietly asking each other, “So, is my face glowing, just a little bit?” It’s hard to imagine them not dropping some hints. “Bet you can’t guess what we just saw…”
Something. Anything.
Of course, considering the track record of the disciples when it came to drawing sound conclusions from the things Jesus said and did, the three probably could have all but said, “SHEKINAH GLORY! VOICE OF GOD! WE JUST SAW JESUS GLORIFIED ON THE MOUNTAIN — AND HE WAS TALKING WITH MOSES AND ELIJAH!” and they still wouldn’t have picked up on it.
But though they kept silent, the spectacle they witnessed (whatever it meant) no doubt reinforced at least a subconscious feeling that they had a preeminent position among the twelve. That potential feeling of smugness was no doubt fed by the blatant failure of the other disciples who had been “left behind” in the valley below as they had been trying to cast out a demon.
Isn’t it interesting that it’s after all this, on the way back to Capernaum, that the first recorded debate takes place over “who is the greatest”? And not too long after that James and John take the subtle approach of asking Jesus directly for the two greatest seats of honor in the kingdom.
No sooner had Jesus answered this argument by placing a child in their midst, identifying anyone like a child as greatest in the kingdom, than John blurts out, “We saw someone casting out demons in your name and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.”
How deep our propensity towards comparison! Spiritual experiences that should humble us, that should fill us with wonder and awe and reverence, with a lasting “Who am I?” glow on our face, instead leave us pompous and snarky and smug.
Epiphanies that should reinforce our great need for one another, that should remind us of our essential unity, our common ties, lead us instead to a biting and dismissing sectarian smartness as we “measure ourselves by one another and compare ourselves to each other” (see 2 Corinthians 10:12).
It’s a well worn path we still walk quite nicely — with each step only demonstrating our personal need for “transfiguration”; that no matter how firm we imagine our grasp of the Word, we have missed the whole point of his coming and of the revelation on the mountain.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Of Rabbits and Elephants
He stood before me with a question.
Elephant or rabbit?
He asked me if I’d read the book The Rabbit and the Elephant: Why Small is the New Big for Today’s Church by Tony & Felicity Dale, along with George Barna.
I have.
Though it was last year sometime. It’s probably on one my shelves in my office or in the bookstore storage room somewhere. It was a follow-up read to Starfish and the Spider by Ori Brafman. Both were fun and enlightening reads, as I recall (though I recall more of the Starfish book than I do of the Rabbit book).
So what is your take? he asks as we stand underneath the shadow of a fairly large elephant (in the bookstore of the relatively large church I call home). And thinking back on the book and the challenge posed by the title, thoughts were uncorked…
I am struck by the “and” in the title of the book. As I initially considered “rabbit” and “elephant” I do believe I had exchanged the word “or” for “and.” As if we either advocate the rabbit or the elephant. Organized (especially organized, larger, insitutional) church or organic (especially small, simple, unplanned, unorganized, serendipitous) church.
But it’s not “or” it’s “and.”
How deep run our dualistic propensities! How often our basic outlook in religion, in politics, in theology, in philosophy, in general, is either this or that. Now, surely, many things cannot be mixed: light and darkness, Christ and Belial, country music and my daughters; but, as demonstrated by Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, how often is reality in fact a creative combination of seeming incompatibles; strands of different colors and textures and consistencies are woven together to form one tapestry.
So it is with elephants and rabbits.
Elephants are big and fat and bulky. They eat a lot (300-400 lbs a day – though according to that veritable source of truth known as Wikipedia they only digest about 40% of what they consume). And oh how they poop. They can and do stick their big noses in all kinds of places – their trunk being sensitive enough to pick up a single blade of grass and strong enough to rip branches off a tree. They are highly intelligent – they have the largest brain of any land animal. And they can easily trample wee things below…like rabbits. Big churches can and do share many of these traits.
Rabbits are small. They live in groups. Their hind legs can carve you up when they feel threatened – not to mention those sharp teeth that can take off a knight’s head when they’re provoked. And, of course, they breed like crazy. They have quite the breeding turnaround (as opposed to the 22 month’s gestation period for elephants). Smaller expressions of “church” (small groups from a few people to a relative many) can share these same traits.
At this point rabbit people can smugly point out the superiority of being rabbits, the freedom of unofficial warrens, and the “free love” to breed and multiply as you please (spiritually speaking of course)…while the elephant people, trunks high in the air like a dandified Colonel Hathi, can look down their ample proboscis at these dirty little rabbits who will never accomplish anything, living in their little holes. But God has created both. Or perhaps, better, when it comes to big organized churches and small relatively unorganized ones, people create the social structures connected within each varied expression, but God authors and beautifies the fellowship and life that can be found in either.
And I can attest to the wonderful, creative, symbiotic relationship that can exist between elephant and rabbit. When a large church empowers people to freely “breed” in small gatherings of all shapes and sizes and configurations without trying to determine outcomes, control the diet or regulate the life processes involved, the explosion of life is amazing! Alone, rabbit people can isolate and can bite and kick the stuffing out of each other just as effectively as the stomping of any elephant church. Any elephant church can stomp out the spontaneity and life and breeding happening among the rabbit population underfoot.
What a blessing in this season for me to see the two not just existing side by side (as much as it’s possible for a rabbit to exist beside an elephant), but to see how the one empowers and enlivens the other; to witness God creating a partnership that historically is not all that common. Historically small groups have been subersive to the reigning elephant church in society – and many rabbits relish that role; in recent times some elephant churches have alternately tried to adopt the rabbits and their culture so as to control them or just utilize their energy for their own ends – but ultimately feel just as skittish about them as elephants do with any small creature underfoot. But how beautiful to see, at this moment, elephant and rabbit moving together to the same kingdom rhythms, and to see God in the midst.
Elephants and rabbits. God created them both.
It can be a beautiful thing.
Elephant or rabbit?
He asked me if I’d read the book The Rabbit and the Elephant: Why Small is the New Big for Today’s Church by Tony & Felicity Dale, along with George Barna.
I have.
Though it was last year sometime. It’s probably on one my shelves in my office or in the bookstore storage room somewhere. It was a follow-up read to Starfish and the Spider by Ori Brafman. Both were fun and enlightening reads, as I recall (though I recall more of the Starfish book than I do of the Rabbit book).
So what is your take? he asks as we stand underneath the shadow of a fairly large elephant (in the bookstore of the relatively large church I call home). And thinking back on the book and the challenge posed by the title, thoughts were uncorked…
I am struck by the “and” in the title of the book. As I initially considered “rabbit” and “elephant” I do believe I had exchanged the word “or” for “and.” As if we either advocate the rabbit or the elephant. Organized (especially organized, larger, insitutional) church or organic (especially small, simple, unplanned, unorganized, serendipitous) church.
But it’s not “or” it’s “and.”
How deep run our dualistic propensities! How often our basic outlook in religion, in politics, in theology, in philosophy, in general, is either this or that. Now, surely, many things cannot be mixed: light and darkness, Christ and Belial, country music and my daughters; but, as demonstrated by Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, how often is reality in fact a creative combination of seeming incompatibles; strands of different colors and textures and consistencies are woven together to form one tapestry.
So it is with elephants and rabbits.
Elephants are big and fat and bulky. They eat a lot (300-400 lbs a day – though according to that veritable source of truth known as Wikipedia they only digest about 40% of what they consume). And oh how they poop. They can and do stick their big noses in all kinds of places – their trunk being sensitive enough to pick up a single blade of grass and strong enough to rip branches off a tree. They are highly intelligent – they have the largest brain of any land animal. And they can easily trample wee things below…like rabbits. Big churches can and do share many of these traits.
Rabbits are small. They live in groups. Their hind legs can carve you up when they feel threatened – not to mention those sharp teeth that can take off a knight’s head when they’re provoked. And, of course, they breed like crazy. They have quite the breeding turnaround (as opposed to the 22 month’s gestation period for elephants). Smaller expressions of “church” (small groups from a few people to a relative many) can share these same traits.
At this point rabbit people can smugly point out the superiority of being rabbits, the freedom of unofficial warrens, and the “free love” to breed and multiply as you please (spiritually speaking of course)…while the elephant people, trunks high in the air like a dandified Colonel Hathi, can look down their ample proboscis at these dirty little rabbits who will never accomplish anything, living in their little holes. But God has created both. Or perhaps, better, when it comes to big organized churches and small relatively unorganized ones, people create the social structures connected within each varied expression, but God authors and beautifies the fellowship and life that can be found in either.
And I can attest to the wonderful, creative, symbiotic relationship that can exist between elephant and rabbit. When a large church empowers people to freely “breed” in small gatherings of all shapes and sizes and configurations without trying to determine outcomes, control the diet or regulate the life processes involved, the explosion of life is amazing! Alone, rabbit people can isolate and can bite and kick the stuffing out of each other just as effectively as the stomping of any elephant church. Any elephant church can stomp out the spontaneity and life and breeding happening among the rabbit population underfoot.
What a blessing in this season for me to see the two not just existing side by side (as much as it’s possible for a rabbit to exist beside an elephant), but to see how the one empowers and enlivens the other; to witness God creating a partnership that historically is not all that common. Historically small groups have been subersive to the reigning elephant church in society – and many rabbits relish that role; in recent times some elephant churches have alternately tried to adopt the rabbits and their culture so as to control them or just utilize their energy for their own ends – but ultimately feel just as skittish about them as elephants do with any small creature underfoot. But how beautiful to see, at this moment, elephant and rabbit moving together to the same kingdom rhythms, and to see God in the midst.
Elephants and rabbits. God created them both.
It can be a beautiful thing.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Thy words were found and I ate them
Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart. Jeremiah 15:16
I took a five day fast.
A five day fast from books.
It was quite the achievement on my part, if I may say so. Getting away with my love on her birthday weekend, and not taking along a single book. Not one. (Only took me 30 years to learn that.)Three days, two nights. 46 hours, 33 minutes and 27 seconds. Actually, I have no idea the exact breakdown. Just call it 48 hours or so. And upon our return we immediately joined a Superbowl gathering hosted by one of the small groups we belong to (the fabulous FNG).
Still no books. No words. No reading.
Home late, early morning rising to prep for an endoscopy and sigmoidoscopy (my 32 year annual act of penance for my many, many sins).
Still no reading.
My love dropped me off early for the procedure. I had packed three books (typical overkill in this department for me) but ended up having to check in at another door on the far side of the hospital. By the time I got there and checked in, I had barely the time to sit down before they came for me. Back across the campus we walked to a waiting room. No sooner had I sat down (again) than they came for me. “No time to lose,” was the word. Shuttled down the hall to an exam room where I changed into that special hospital garb so many of us know and cherish. The place was packed, time was short, my physician would be there in the next thirty minutes, so all was in high gear as they regathered my info along with needed initials and signatures, stuck me for an IV (thankfully just once), strapped an oxygen hose around my face, and then rejoiced that all was done and ready when the doctor walked in.
No reading. No words on printed page. Only ceiling tiles and a large clock ticking the wordless moments away. Sedation administered. Dim memories of intense gagging followed by slightly more lucid images of my wife helping me get dressed, of me being wheeled out to the car, talk of snow (surely that couldn’t have been right!), of pulling in the drive way at home and insisting I could walk unaided.
And I slept.
Turns out they had administered three doses of sedation and yet another substance on top of that to finally get the scope down my throat (it was the semi-truck version of the scope, able to look sideways as well as straight ahead – I don’t even like to think about what they used for the other end; I just hope it was at least a different scope). “He’ll be alright after he sleeps for a day…well, yeah, after a day,” says the nurse.
Wiped out. Surfaced to some basil tomato soup, tried to watch a movie (reading out of the question). I realized my mind was making up its own scenes for the film. Too weird. Out again for hours. Dinner. An attempt at watching an episode of Law and Order and there was no order to it at all. Out again until 2AM. I get up, shower, think, “My books!” But the shower doesn’t remove the foggy film from my brain. Back to sleep. Tuesday morning. Get up in time to go to work. I feel my brain crashing – how long, O Lord, how long!? I head back home. Sleep three hours. Lunch. Feeling more lucid, but daughter to shuttle, some work to attempt. Home in time for group. Sleep through it.
No books. No reading. Five days. Felt like five months.
This morning I wake and glory hallelujah the fog has lifted. I see clear. I shower, and I sit. Greek Bible. 2 Corinthians. Paul’s emotionally-laden, passionately-filled, Spirit-unctioned words pour into me as the very nectar of heaven. Each word a flood of delight. The poetic rhythms of the Greek, the flow of his mind, his very bowels, opening wide (thankfully no scope required), inviting mine to return the gesture – and receiving it. For an hour and a half I read through the entire book. I’m trying to remember when the Word was so delicious, so precious.
Thy words were found, and I did eat them.
I’ve analyzed and diagrammed and inductively broken down and reassembled 2 Corinthians more times than I can count, and always found blessing in that. But oh the pure, untainted, virgin delight of those wonderful 90 minutes I found in simply eating those words. Rolling them over and around my tongue, ingesting line after line, hearing the beating of Paul’s heart, in its rhythms feeling His.
And thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart.
Perhaps it just takes a few days of chosen and/or enforced word fasting to fully appreciate the feasting on those words, to be blessed anew with what it feels like to have your soul nourished and filled to overflowing through what He speaks. I could have gone to a scholar’s conference that weekend, but chose to fast from words and feast on and with my love. And rather than being sated with the offerings of others’ feasting, I found, quite unexpectantly, at the end of my fast, one of the most memorable, personal feasts of all.
Lord, let your words be found again…
I took a five day fast.
A five day fast from books.
It was quite the achievement on my part, if I may say so. Getting away with my love on her birthday weekend, and not taking along a single book. Not one. (Only took me 30 years to learn that.)Three days, two nights. 46 hours, 33 minutes and 27 seconds. Actually, I have no idea the exact breakdown. Just call it 48 hours or so. And upon our return we immediately joined a Superbowl gathering hosted by one of the small groups we belong to (the fabulous FNG).
Still no books. No words. No reading.
Home late, early morning rising to prep for an endoscopy and sigmoidoscopy (my 32 year annual act of penance for my many, many sins).
Still no reading.
My love dropped me off early for the procedure. I had packed three books (typical overkill in this department for me) but ended up having to check in at another door on the far side of the hospital. By the time I got there and checked in, I had barely the time to sit down before they came for me. Back across the campus we walked to a waiting room. No sooner had I sat down (again) than they came for me. “No time to lose,” was the word. Shuttled down the hall to an exam room where I changed into that special hospital garb so many of us know and cherish. The place was packed, time was short, my physician would be there in the next thirty minutes, so all was in high gear as they regathered my info along with needed initials and signatures, stuck me for an IV (thankfully just once), strapped an oxygen hose around my face, and then rejoiced that all was done and ready when the doctor walked in.
No reading. No words on printed page. Only ceiling tiles and a large clock ticking the wordless moments away. Sedation administered. Dim memories of intense gagging followed by slightly more lucid images of my wife helping me get dressed, of me being wheeled out to the car, talk of snow (surely that couldn’t have been right!), of pulling in the drive way at home and insisting I could walk unaided.
And I slept.
Turns out they had administered three doses of sedation and yet another substance on top of that to finally get the scope down my throat (it was the semi-truck version of the scope, able to look sideways as well as straight ahead – I don’t even like to think about what they used for the other end; I just hope it was at least a different scope). “He’ll be alright after he sleeps for a day…well, yeah, after a day,” says the nurse.
Wiped out. Surfaced to some basil tomato soup, tried to watch a movie (reading out of the question). I realized my mind was making up its own scenes for the film. Too weird. Out again for hours. Dinner. An attempt at watching an episode of Law and Order and there was no order to it at all. Out again until 2AM. I get up, shower, think, “My books!” But the shower doesn’t remove the foggy film from my brain. Back to sleep. Tuesday morning. Get up in time to go to work. I feel my brain crashing – how long, O Lord, how long!? I head back home. Sleep three hours. Lunch. Feeling more lucid, but daughter to shuttle, some work to attempt. Home in time for group. Sleep through it.
No books. No reading. Five days. Felt like five months.
This morning I wake and glory hallelujah the fog has lifted. I see clear. I shower, and I sit. Greek Bible. 2 Corinthians. Paul’s emotionally-laden, passionately-filled, Spirit-unctioned words pour into me as the very nectar of heaven. Each word a flood of delight. The poetic rhythms of the Greek, the flow of his mind, his very bowels, opening wide (thankfully no scope required), inviting mine to return the gesture – and receiving it. For an hour and a half I read through the entire book. I’m trying to remember when the Word was so delicious, so precious.
Thy words were found, and I did eat them.
I’ve analyzed and diagrammed and inductively broken down and reassembled 2 Corinthians more times than I can count, and always found blessing in that. But oh the pure, untainted, virgin delight of those wonderful 90 minutes I found in simply eating those words. Rolling them over and around my tongue, ingesting line after line, hearing the beating of Paul’s heart, in its rhythms feeling His.
And thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart.
Perhaps it just takes a few days of chosen and/or enforced word fasting to fully appreciate the feasting on those words, to be blessed anew with what it feels like to have your soul nourished and filled to overflowing through what He speaks. I could have gone to a scholar’s conference that weekend, but chose to fast from words and feast on and with my love. And rather than being sated with the offerings of others’ feasting, I found, quite unexpectantly, at the end of my fast, one of the most memorable, personal feasts of all.
Lord, let your words be found again…
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Do you see anything?
The Lord opens the eyes of the blind. Psalm 146:8
And they came to Bethsaida. And some people brought to him a blind man and begged him to touch him. And he took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village, and when he had spit on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, “Do you see anything?” And he looked up and said, “I see men, but they look like trees, walking.” Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. And he sent him to his home, saying, “Do not even enter the village.” Mark 8:22-26
It’s not just another healing.
This rather odd healing encounter of Jesus and the blind man serves as a significant bridge between “Act 1” of Mark (the early Galilean ministry of Jesus) and “Act 2” (preparing the disciples for the final journey to Jerusalem). On one side it connects with what we have just read, starting with the healing of the deaf/mute man in Mark 7:31-37 and the increasingly apparent dull and dimwittedness of the disciples and on the other side with a “first touch” of spiritual perception in Peter’s confession in 8:27-30. But no sooner has Peter confessed “You are the Christ” than it becomes clear that when it comes to Jesus and his mission and the kingdom of God, he still only “sees men, but they look like trees, walking.”
He needs another touch.
“Why does Jesus have to touch the blind man’s eyes twice? Why the ‘partial’ healing?” We might ask the bigger question about our own spiritual eyes and vision.
The fact is, generally speaking, when it comes to our spiritual perception, to our “getting it,” one touch won’t do. It takes the repeated touch of Jesus on “the eyes of our heart” to remove the distortions that accumulate all too easily as we continue to “look through a glass, darkly.”
Perhaps that’s why Paul continues to pray over the Ephesian believers “that the eyes of your heart might be enlightened” — and that’s after spending two full years among them. We’re just as much in need of his repeated touch as was the blind man — and the twelve.
It takes a repeated touch. And evidently it takes Jesus’ spit, too.
What is this with Jesus and his spit? With the deaf/mute man Jesus spat (on the ground? into his hand?) and then touched the man’s tongue (and of course he also thrust his fingers into the man’s ears — it would probably go viral on YouTube). Now in this case Mark says that Jesus spat into his eyes and then touched them (rubbing it in?). Then there’s the case of the man born blind in John 9. There Jesus spits into the dirt and makes his own little mud pile which he then applies to the blind man’s eyes (thankfully then telling him to go wash his eyes).
Jesus and his spit.
There may be many who try to emulate Paul by sending healing hankies in the mail, but curiously they’re aren't any (at least that I’m aware of) that send out vials of spit. Or that have spitting services. The Church of the Holy Spittle. But as head-scratching as this all can be, there’s something wonderfully wild and off-putting about it. The kingdom of God is wonderfully wild and off-putting and unconventional and uncategorizable and uncontainable and unpredictable and undefinable. It defies pat formulations and neat explanations. Now it’s a word, then it’s a wordless touch; now it’s spit in the eyes, then it’s mud; now it’s instantaneous, then it’s in stages; now it’s “I will come and heal him,” then it’s “I won’t come now”; now it’s healing, then it’s suffering; now it’s release from prison, then it’s death.
And in the midst of all these seemingly random and arbitrary rhythms Jesus still leans close and asks us:
“Do you see anything?”
And they came to Bethsaida. And some people brought to him a blind man and begged him to touch him. And he took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village, and when he had spit on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, “Do you see anything?” And he looked up and said, “I see men, but they look like trees, walking.” Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. And he sent him to his home, saying, “Do not even enter the village.” Mark 8:22-26
It’s not just another healing.
This rather odd healing encounter of Jesus and the blind man serves as a significant bridge between “Act 1” of Mark (the early Galilean ministry of Jesus) and “Act 2” (preparing the disciples for the final journey to Jerusalem). On one side it connects with what we have just read, starting with the healing of the deaf/mute man in Mark 7:31-37 and the increasingly apparent dull and dimwittedness of the disciples and on the other side with a “first touch” of spiritual perception in Peter’s confession in 8:27-30. But no sooner has Peter confessed “You are the Christ” than it becomes clear that when it comes to Jesus and his mission and the kingdom of God, he still only “sees men, but they look like trees, walking.”
He needs another touch.
“Why does Jesus have to touch the blind man’s eyes twice? Why the ‘partial’ healing?” We might ask the bigger question about our own spiritual eyes and vision.
The fact is, generally speaking, when it comes to our spiritual perception, to our “getting it,” one touch won’t do. It takes the repeated touch of Jesus on “the eyes of our heart” to remove the distortions that accumulate all too easily as we continue to “look through a glass, darkly.”
Perhaps that’s why Paul continues to pray over the Ephesian believers “that the eyes of your heart might be enlightened” — and that’s after spending two full years among them. We’re just as much in need of his repeated touch as was the blind man — and the twelve.
It takes a repeated touch. And evidently it takes Jesus’ spit, too.
What is this with Jesus and his spit? With the deaf/mute man Jesus spat (on the ground? into his hand?) and then touched the man’s tongue (and of course he also thrust his fingers into the man’s ears — it would probably go viral on YouTube). Now in this case Mark says that Jesus spat into his eyes and then touched them (rubbing it in?). Then there’s the case of the man born blind in John 9. There Jesus spits into the dirt and makes his own little mud pile which he then applies to the blind man’s eyes (thankfully then telling him to go wash his eyes).
Jesus and his spit.
There may be many who try to emulate Paul by sending healing hankies in the mail, but curiously they’re aren't any (at least that I’m aware of) that send out vials of spit. Or that have spitting services. The Church of the Holy Spittle. But as head-scratching as this all can be, there’s something wonderfully wild and off-putting about it. The kingdom of God is wonderfully wild and off-putting and unconventional and uncategorizable and uncontainable and unpredictable and undefinable. It defies pat formulations and neat explanations. Now it’s a word, then it’s a wordless touch; now it’s spit in the eyes, then it’s mud; now it’s instantaneous, then it’s in stages; now it’s “I will come and heal him,” then it’s “I won’t come now”; now it’s healing, then it’s suffering; now it’s release from prison, then it’s death.
And in the midst of all these seemingly random and arbitrary rhythms Jesus still leans close and asks us:
“Do you see anything?”
Monday, January 31, 2011
Translators to the Reader_12
End. Finis. El fin. The final 1000 words or so of this rather magnificent preface to the original KJV in 1611. The actual author of this preface is Miles Smith, Bishop of Gloucester, a key member of the KJV translation team, known for his mastery of biblical languages, described as a “severe Calvinist,” and known, in his day, for his high profile walking out on a sermon on one occasion because he considered it boring – and retiring to the pub. Give us more “severe Calvinists” like Miles Smith!
Adam Nicolson in God’s Secretaries makes this comment on this preface I have been laboring through (for me a labor of love – I look forward to humbly making his acquaintance in what will surely be the grandest library of all in the new heavens and the new earth):
Miles Smith – and it is his greatest monument – then wrote the long and beautiful Preface to the translation. It is rarely printed with the Bible nowadays…Smith’s words exude all that is best about Jacobean England, the hopes for this translation and the beliefs in the power and value of the work which was now so nearly complete…It is a defense of what they have done against the cavils of the Roman Catholics, and a paean to James as its progenitur. It insists on the virtues and necessity of translation, and snips a the Catholics for their love of obscurity and darkness. It celebrates the virtues of accuracy, but scoffs, happily enough, at the over-scrupulosity of the Puritans who insist on the same word being translated in the same way every time. It’s atmosphere is generous and majestic and never more sweepingly vigorous – the influence of the pulpit is everywhere here – when describing the part that scripture might play in a man’s life…Was anything ever written about a sacred text that was so fresh, so full of a delight in what these words might bring you? For all the lugubrious seriousness and monomaniac anger and violence that can hang around seventeenth-century religion, Bishop Smith, here writing at the very end of the long translation process in which he had been engaged throughout, remains buoyant with enthusiasm and with a quality that can only be called grace.And so, the final segment of the Preface:
Reasons Inducing Us Not To Stand Curiously upon an Identity of Phrasing
Another thing we think good to admonish thee of (gentle Reader) that we have not tied ourselves to an uniformity of phrasing, or to an identity of words, as some peradventure would wish that we had done, because they observe, that some learned men somewhere, have been as exact as they could that way. Truly, that we might not vary from the sense of that which we had translated before, if the word signified the same thing in both places (for there be some words that be not of the same sense everywhere) we were especially careful, and made a conscience, according to our duty. But, that we should express the same notion in the same particular word; as for example, if we translate the Hebrew or Greek word once by Purpose, never to call it Intent; if one where Journeying, never Traveling; if one where Think, never Suppose; if one where Pain, never Ache; if one where Joy, never Gladness, etc. Thus to mince the matter, we thought to savour more of curiosity than wisdom, and that rather it would breed scorn in the Atheist, than bring profit to the godly Reader. For is the kingdom of God become words or syllables? why should we be in bondage to them if we may be free, use one precisely when we may use another no less fit, as commodiously? A godly Father in the Primitive time showed himself greatly moved, that one of newfangledness called krabbaton though the difference be little or none; and another reporteth that he was much abused for turning Cucurbita (to which reading the people had been used) into Hedera. Now if this happen in better times, and upon so small occasions, we might justly fear hard censure, if generally we should make verbal and unnecessary changings. We might also be charged (by scoffers) with some unequal dealing towards a great number of good English words. For as it is written of a certain great Philosopher, that he should say, that those logs were happy that were made images to be worshipped; for their fellows, as good as they, lay for blocks behind the fire: so if we should say, as it were, unto certain words, Stand up higher, have a place in the Bible always, and to others of like quality, Get ye hence, be banished forever, we might be taxed peradventure with S. James his words, namely, To be partial in ourselves and judges of evil thoughts. Add hereunto, that niceness in words was always counted the next step to trifling, and so was to be curious about names too: also that we cannot follow a better pattern for elocution than God himself; therefore he using divers words, in his holy writ, and indifferently for one thing in nature: we, if we will not be superstitious, may use the same liberty in our English versions out of Hebrew and Greek, for that copy or store that he hath given us. Lastly, we have on the one side avoided the scrupulosity of the Puritans, who leave the old Ecclesiastical words, and betake them to other, as when they put Washing for Baptism, and Congregation instead of Church: as also on the other side we have shunned the obscurity of the Papists, in their Azimes, Tunike, Rational, Holocausts, Praepuce, Pasche, and a number of such like, whereof their late Translation is full, and that of purpose to darken the sense, that since they must needs translate the Bible, yet by the language thereof, it may be kept from being understood. But we desire that the Scripture may speak like itself, as in the language of Canaan, that it may be understood even of the very vulgar.
Many other things we might give thee warning of (gentle Reader) if we had not exceeded the measure of a Preface already. It remaineth, that we commend thee to God, and to the Spirit of his grace, which is able to build further than we can ask or think. He removeth the scales from our eyes, the veil from our hearts, opening our wits that we may understand his word, enlarging our hearts, yea correcting our affections, that we may love it above gold and silver, yea that we may love it to the end. Ye are brought unto fountains of living water which ye digged not; do not cast earth into them with the Philistines, neither prefer broken pits before them with the wicked Jews. [Gen 26:15. Jer 2:13.] Others have laboured, and you may enter into their labours; O receive not so great things in vain, O despise not so great salvation! Be not like swine to tread under foot so precious things, neither yet like dogs to tear and abuse holy things. Say not to our Saviour with the Gergesites, Depart out of our coasts [Matt 8:34]; neither yet with Esau sell your birthright for a mess of pottage [Heb 12:16]. If light be come into the world, love not darkness more than light; if food, if clothing be offered, go not naked, starve not yourselves. Remember the advice of Nazianzene, It is a grievous thing (or dangerous) to neglect a great fair, and to seek to make markets afterwards: also the encouragement of S. Chrysostom, It is altogether impossible, that he that is sober (and watchful) should at any time be neglected: Lastly, the admonition and menacing of S. Augustine, They that despise God's will inviting them, shall feel God's will taking vengeance of them. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God; [Heb 10:31] but a blessed thing it is, and will bring us to everlasting blessedness in the end, when God speaketh unto us, to hearken; when he setteth his word before us, to read it; when he stretcheth out his hand and calleth, to answer, Here am I, here we are to do thy will, O God. The Lord work a care and conscience in us to know him and serve him, that we may be acknowledged of him at the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with the holy Ghost, be all praise and thanksgiving.
Amen.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Translators to the Reader_11
Almost done. Two more segments. To include alternative readings from different manuscripts or not? Will including them only stir up doubt and unprofitable debate, or will such forthrightness only enhance the Scriptures and our pursuit of Truth? The Translators decided for the latter and included alternative readings. King James was insistent that no marginal notes be included that explained or indoctrinated (what we would call a “study Bible”). He was insistent that this translation allow the Bible to speak for itself and thus hold within itself all the possibilities of interpretation for believers to search out “by conference” with one another.
Three pull quotes:
Variety of Translations is profitable for the finding out of the sense of the Scriptures: so diversity of signification and sense in the margin, where the text is no so clear, must needs do good, yea, is necessary. In a word, this provides the thesis of this segment: variety, options = good.
It is better to make doubt of those things which are secret, than to strive about those things that are uncertain. One of the nagging tendencies I have observed in evangelical circles: to deny that anything is uncertain (except in matters that we personally are indifferent about). Much of what Paul terms “useless arguments about words” is generally the result of trying to put too fine a point on matters which are, in fact “uncertain” or “secret.” Historically it’s also been at the root of what orthodox Christianity has considered “heresy.” The “heretic” cannot hold truths in tension and ultimately feels he must denigrate one to rescue the other in an effort to remove uncertainty, thereby creating chasms and camps.
Whatsoever things are necessary are manifest. A ancient and much needed pithy piece of wisdom from Chrysostom. “The works of the flesh are obvious”; “The children of God and the children of the devil are manifest.” If it matters it’s manifest – and not just to your eyes or to your camp.
Reasons Moving Us To Set Diversity of Senses in the Margin, where there is Great Probability for Each
Some peradventure would have no variety of senses to be set in the margin, lest the authority of the Scriptures for deciding of controversies by that show of uncertainty, should somewhat be shaken. But we hold their judgment not to be so sound in this point. For though, whatsoever things are necessary are manifest, as S. Chrysostom saith, and as S. Augustine, In those things that are plainly set down in the Scriptures, all such matters are found that concern Faith, Hope, and Charity. Yet for all that it cannot be dissembled, that partly to exercise and whet our wits, partly to wean the curious from loathing of them for their every-where plainness, partly also to stir up our devotion to crave the assistance of God's spirit by prayer, and lastly, that we might be forward to seek aid of our brethren by conference, and never scorn those that be not in all respects so complete as they should be, being to seek in many things ourselves, it hath pleased God in his divine providence, here and there to scatter words and sentences of that difficulty and doubtfulness, not in doctrinal points that concern salvation, (for in such it hath been vouched that the Scriptures are plain) but in matters of less moment, that fearfulness would better beseem us than confidence, and if we will resolve, to resolve upon modesty with S. Augustine, (though not in this same case altogether, yet upon the same ground) Melius est dubitare de occultis, quam litigare de incertis, it is better to make doubt of those things which are secret, than to strive about those things that are uncertain. There be many words in the Scriptures, which be never found there but once, (having neither brother nor neighbor, as the Hebrews speak) so that we cannot be holpen by conference of places. Again, there be many rare names of certain birds, beasts and precious stones, etc. concerning which the Hebrews themselves are so divided among themselves for judgment, that they may seem to have defined this or that, rather because they would say something, than because they were sure of that which they said, as S. Jerome somewhere saith of the Septuagint. Now in such a case, doth not a margin do well to admonish the Reader to seek further, and not to conclude or dogmatize upon this or that peremptorily? For as it is a fault of incredulity, to doubt of those things that are evident: so to determine of such things as the Spirit of God hath left (even in the judgment of the judicious) questionable, can be no less than presumption. Therefore as S. Augustine saith, that variety of Translations is profitable for the finding out of the sense of the Scriptures: so diversity of signification and sense in the margin, where the text is no so clear, must needs do good, yea, is necessary, as we are persuaded. We know that Sixtus Quintus expressly forbiddeth, that any variety of readings of their vulgar edition, should be put in the margin, (which though it be not altogether the same thing to that we have in hand, yet it looketh that way) but we think he hath not all of his own side his favorers, for this conceit. They that are wise, had rather have their judgments at liberty in differences of readings, than to be captivated to one, when it may be the other. If they were sure that their high Priest had all laws shut up in his breast, as Paul the Second bragged, and that he were as free from error by special privilege, as the Dictators of Rome were made by law inviolable, it were another matter; then his word were an Oracle, his opinion a decision. But the eyes of the world are now open, God be thanked, and have been a great while, they find that he is subject to the same affections and infirmities that others be, that his skin is penetrable, and therefore so much as he proveth, not as much as he claimeth, they grant and embrace.
Three pull quotes:
Variety of Translations is profitable for the finding out of the sense of the Scriptures: so diversity of signification and sense in the margin, where the text is no so clear, must needs do good, yea, is necessary. In a word, this provides the thesis of this segment: variety, options = good.
It is better to make doubt of those things which are secret, than to strive about those things that are uncertain. One of the nagging tendencies I have observed in evangelical circles: to deny that anything is uncertain (except in matters that we personally are indifferent about). Much of what Paul terms “useless arguments about words” is generally the result of trying to put too fine a point on matters which are, in fact “uncertain” or “secret.” Historically it’s also been at the root of what orthodox Christianity has considered “heresy.” The “heretic” cannot hold truths in tension and ultimately feels he must denigrate one to rescue the other in an effort to remove uncertainty, thereby creating chasms and camps.
Whatsoever things are necessary are manifest. A ancient and much needed pithy piece of wisdom from Chrysostom. “The works of the flesh are obvious”; “The children of God and the children of the devil are manifest.” If it matters it’s manifest – and not just to your eyes or to your camp.
Reasons Moving Us To Set Diversity of Senses in the Margin, where there is Great Probability for Each
Some peradventure would have no variety of senses to be set in the margin, lest the authority of the Scriptures for deciding of controversies by that show of uncertainty, should somewhat be shaken. But we hold their judgment not to be so sound in this point. For though, whatsoever things are necessary are manifest, as S. Chrysostom saith, and as S. Augustine, In those things that are plainly set down in the Scriptures, all such matters are found that concern Faith, Hope, and Charity. Yet for all that it cannot be dissembled, that partly to exercise and whet our wits, partly to wean the curious from loathing of them for their every-where plainness, partly also to stir up our devotion to crave the assistance of God's spirit by prayer, and lastly, that we might be forward to seek aid of our brethren by conference, and never scorn those that be not in all respects so complete as they should be, being to seek in many things ourselves, it hath pleased God in his divine providence, here and there to scatter words and sentences of that difficulty and doubtfulness, not in doctrinal points that concern salvation, (for in such it hath been vouched that the Scriptures are plain) but in matters of less moment, that fearfulness would better beseem us than confidence, and if we will resolve, to resolve upon modesty with S. Augustine, (though not in this same case altogether, yet upon the same ground) Melius est dubitare de occultis, quam litigare de incertis, it is better to make doubt of those things which are secret, than to strive about those things that are uncertain. There be many words in the Scriptures, which be never found there but once, (having neither brother nor neighbor, as the Hebrews speak) so that we cannot be holpen by conference of places. Again, there be many rare names of certain birds, beasts and precious stones, etc. concerning which the Hebrews themselves are so divided among themselves for judgment, that they may seem to have defined this or that, rather because they would say something, than because they were sure of that which they said, as S. Jerome somewhere saith of the Septuagint. Now in such a case, doth not a margin do well to admonish the Reader to seek further, and not to conclude or dogmatize upon this or that peremptorily? For as it is a fault of incredulity, to doubt of those things that are evident: so to determine of such things as the Spirit of God hath left (even in the judgment of the judicious) questionable, can be no less than presumption. Therefore as S. Augustine saith, that variety of Translations is profitable for the finding out of the sense of the Scriptures: so diversity of signification and sense in the margin, where the text is no so clear, must needs do good, yea, is necessary, as we are persuaded. We know that Sixtus Quintus expressly forbiddeth, that any variety of readings of their vulgar edition, should be put in the margin, (which though it be not altogether the same thing to that we have in hand, yet it looketh that way) but we think he hath not all of his own side his favorers, for this conceit. They that are wise, had rather have their judgments at liberty in differences of readings, than to be captivated to one, when it may be the other. If they were sure that their high Priest had all laws shut up in his breast, as Paul the Second bragged, and that he were as free from error by special privilege, as the Dictators of Rome were made by law inviolable, it were another matter; then his word were an Oracle, his opinion a decision. But the eyes of the world are now open, God be thanked, and have been a great while, they find that he is subject to the same affections and infirmities that others be, that his skin is penetrable, and therefore so much as he proveth, not as much as he claimeth, they grant and embrace.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Translators to the Reader_10
The one line that stands out to me from this section – one that highlights the importance of taking our time when engaged in what matters most:
Matters of weight and consequence are to be speeded with maturity.
To which I would add Augustine's prayer:
O let thy Scriptures be my pure delight, let me not be deceived in them, neither let me deceive by them.
The Purpose of the Translators, with their Number, Furniture, Care, etc.
But it is high time to leave them, and to show in brief what we proposed to ourselves, and what course we held in this our perusal and survey of the Bible. Truly (good Christian Reader) we never thought from the beginning, that we should need to make a new Translation, nor yet to make of a bad one a good one, (for then the imputation of Sixtus had been true in some sort, that our people had been fed with gall of Dragons instead of wine, with whey instead of milk:) but to make a good one better, or out of many good ones, one principal good one, not justly to be excepted against; that hath been our endeavor, that our mark. To that purpose there were many chosen, that were greater in other men's eyes than in their own, and that sought the truth rather than their own praise. Again, they came or were thought to come to the work, not exercendi causa (as one saith) but exercitati, that is, learned, not to learn: For the chief overseer under his Majesty, to whom not only we, but also our whole Church was much bound, knew by his wisdom, which thing also Nazianzen taught so long ago, that it is a preposterous order to teach first and to learn after, yea that to learn and practice together, is neither commendable for the workman, nor safe for the work. Therefore such were thought upon, as could say modestly with Saint Jerome, Et Hebraeum Sermonem ex parte didicimus, et in Latino pene ab ipsis incunabulis etc. detriti sumus. Both we have learned the Hebrew tongue in part, and in the Latin we have been exercised almost from our very cradle. S. Jerome maketh no mention of the Greek tongue, wherein yet he did excel, because he translated not the old Testament out of Greek, but out of Hebrew. And in what sort did these assemble? In the trust of their own knowledge, or of their sharpness of wit, or deepness of judgment, as it were in an arm of flesh? At no hand. They trusted in him that hath the key of David, opening and no man shutting; they prayed to the Lord the Father of our Lord, to the effect that S. Augustine did; O let thy Scriptures be my pure delight, let me not be deceived in them, neither let me deceive by them. In this confidence, and with this devotion did they assemble together; not too many, lest one should trouble another; and yet many, lest many things haply might escape them. If you ask what they had before them, truly it was the Hebrew text of the Old Testament, the Greek of the New. These are the two golden pipes, or rather conduits, where-through the olive branches empty themselves into the gold. Saint Augustine calleth them precedent, or original tongues; Saint Jerome, fountains. The same Saint Jerome affirmeth, and Gratian hath not spared to put it into his Decree, That as the credit of the old Books (he meaneth of the Old Testament) is to be tried by the Hebrew Volumes, so of the New by the Greek tongue, he meaneth by the original Greek. If truth be to be tried by these tongues, then whence should a Translation be made, but out of them? These tongues therefore, the Scriptures we say in those tongues, we set before us to translate, being the tongues wherein God was pleased to speak to his Church by his Prophets and Apostles. Neither did we run over the work with that posting haste that the Septuagint did, if that be true which is reported of them, that they finished it in 72 days; neither were we barred or hindered from going over it again, having once done it, like S. Jerome, if that be true which himself reporteth, that he could no sooner write anything, but presently it was caught from him, and published, and he could not have leave to mend it: neither, to be short, were we the first that fell in hand with translating the Scripture into English, and consequently destitute of former helps, as it is written of Origen, that he was the first in a manner, that put his hand to write Commentaries upon the Scriptures, and therefore no marvel, if he overshot himself many times. None of these things: the work hath not been huddled up in 72 days, but hath cost the workmen, as light as it seemeth, the pains of twice seven times seventy two days and more: matters of such weight and consequence are to be speeded with maturity: for in a business of moment a man feareth not the blame of convenient slackness. Neither did we think much to consult the Translators or Commentators, Chaldee, Hebrew, Syrian, Greek or Latin, no nor the Spanish, French, Italian, or Dutch; neither did we disdain to revise that which we had done, and to bring back to the anvil that which we had hammered: but having and using as great helps as were needful, and fearing no reproach for slowness, nor coveting praise for expedition, we have at the length, through the good hand of the Lord upon us, brought the work to that pass that you see.
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